Playground
by Paper Space
Summary: The 34th Annual Hunger Games proved to be a games noone wanted to remember, but noone seemed to be able to forget. -CLOSED-
1. Foreward

**(A/N): I guess you can call this one big ol' writing exercise. I need practice doing character studies and what better way to do that than by attempting to personify characters that aren't your own under the watchful eye of the very person that created them? To those of you who read/are reading the Blood of the Beast, don't be mad at me for starting up another project! I can't really go without writing; it just has to be the right thing for the right time and this should help me get over my weird hill with that story.**

**Anyway, since FF seemed to massacre all the SYOT's a week or two ago, I'm pretty nervous about putting up a form. So if you have a tribute you want to submit, PM me for the details. The basics I'm going to need are of course: Name, Age, and District. But I'm looking for detail; make these guys so real that there's nearly no blanks I have to fill in. Give them their own little stories. The more you include, the more I have to work with. It's not first come first serve so take as much time as you need. **

**Thanks to everyone who submits someone! Can't wait to see what you guys can create.**

**As of 8/12 NO SPOTS ARE OPEN. We are offically closed, everybody!**

* * *

_Foreward_

* * *

We want you to know the nation had seen monsters long before Coriolanus Snow. We want you to know that before Katniss Everdeen there had been terrors; irreversible terrors that continue to haunt the darkest cervices of our devastated cities and even the purest of air that gushes past your face. Your parents can tell you of these horrors. Be thankful you will never have them manifest before your very eyes; because believe us when we say they will never leave those who lived through them.

There are things you must know. There are stories that must be heard lest they die and fade into oblivion with the forgotten. If they are forgotten, they seize to exist. And this would be just fine wouldn't it? Why bring the blood back to surface?

Because you are all still human. Because all it takes is just the right person and the right time for all the progress you believe you have made to crumple into nothing and soon you'll find yourself deeper than you were.

Fourty years before Katniss Everdeen held out berries for the cameras in the arena of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games- starting a fire she had no awareness nor control over that would one day burn all the world had known to the ground, two men stood in an open field bathed in sunlight and surrounded by an inconceivable amount lavender plants swaying in the wind that carried their words. They didn't face one another but there were smiles spread across their lips as they observed the landscape many would call breathtaking, because to them it was going to soon become a slaughtering ground.

"Well, Acanthus?" whispered the president, who had confided in the man for both his two years as leader of Panem. They used to say you could see the hunger in his eyes as he sent out the orders to peacekeepers to hunt down those he saw as potential betrayers to his government- as if he would have rather done it himself.

The president was a monster. Every day he reminded himself of that. He _wanted_ that. He wanted to be feared.

But the man who loomed beside him, silent with his black eyes focused straight ahead, was far worse than the president. He was entirely apathetic. He had no regard to how people saw him. He was the Head Game Maker and considerably young compared to the rest. However he did his job very, very well. And this wasn't because he was forced.

It was because he wanted to.

"It is perfect," Acanthus said.

"I hope this year isn't a disappointment," the president sneered, because both men knew it wouldn't be. It never was.

Acanthus was undeniably unusual in his deaths- his run so far had been a collage of children entirely covered with blood as they bled out from every pore in their skin, strange insect hybrids that only ate away eyes and left the victim alive for hours before they died, broken teeth and black vile spewing from the opened, screaming mouths of the tributes who had played in his last two games. But to the president, that was what made his games so very-well, _entertaining_.

The hover craft was suddenly above them both. The president immediately moved toward its latter, but Acanthus stayed among the lavender plants for a moment more, smiling.

Contrary to the belief of the president who observed him with curiosity, thinking that the man was imaging his strategy, carefully playing out how these games would go- Acanthus's mind was almost completely blank. Only one thought had ran its course through the blackness.

_Let the Games begin, children_.

We tell you of these men because we want you to see, we want you to understand. At that time, all it took was a name to be drawn from a glass bowl for a gruesome, terrible fate to be sealed.

Before you hear this story, we want you to know that even the people of the Capitol wanted to forget the Thirty-Fourth annual Hunger Games.


	2. Luxury

**It's about that time everybody. Let the games begin! : )**

**Now just a few quick little notes: yes I am still accepting tributes. I only wrote out this chapter because I finally have my D1's. The tributes spots that are still open are posted in the previous chapter (and to those who I am holding spots for I took them out of the "opened" list. So don't worry that doesn't mean they are taken.)**

**And as for the two whose characters are debuting in this chapter: I did my best to capture their essence, while at the same time making them my own (and still yours too, of course). I hope you like what I did with them. I'm sure you've all noticed I haven't put up a list. Soo these two little beauties belong to Asami Sato (the male) and Barbreeka (the female). I worked with what I had so be honest on what you guys think. **

**Now… without further aduee I give you the tributes of D1 ;)**

* * *

_Luxury_

* * *

_DISTRICT ONE_ quite literally shined that night like the sparkling gem of the Capitol that it was. Lights flickered from the windows of ascetically appeasing homes, men and women clinked glasses and made toasts along gold paved streets, music fluttered through the purple sky. The annual Hunger Games brought about the same celebration here, each and every year. As usual the people of One were wide awake with anticipation for the reaping that was to take place the following morning- especially the hundred potential tributes who planned to jump forward as volunteers. Of the three districts that put their children through vigorous training for the games, District One was by far the smallest. They had but one Academy; a single magnificent building, with pillars made of marble and stone- only the best to mold their contributions to the Capitol.

District One prided itself on their tributes- their beautiful, smiling, stunning tributes that would gleam as radiantly as diamonds right up until the moment they died.

* * *

Of all the places in One, nowhere was quite as lively as Victors Village. The elitist members of the district were there- victors of Hunger Games past, visitors from the Capitol, even the Mayor himself was present. They all sauntered from one gorgeous manor to the next along the cobble stone road, laughing and dancing, most of them as drunk as could be. In particular, a rather large crowd was gathering at the Brill Estate.

As Turquoise leaned against the balcony on his long arms, the corners of his well-shaped lips pulled up into a smile when he looked down at them. No one needed to tell him that his was the place to be that night. He already knew.

When a pair of fatter women on the ground noticed him, they tilted their pudgy chins upward and motioned to the men they chatted with, pointing at him while they did. Others surrounding them began to do the same, whispering and beaming at him. The boy's grin flattened into his characteristic smirk.

Of course they knew him._ Everyone_ in One knew his name; Turq Brill. More specifically Turquoise Brill the third- son to District One's beloved victor of the same name who had won one of the earliest Hunger Games around twenty-three years ago. It was only moments before that Turq had rebuttoned his shirt across his chest; he had hardly been in sight for more than a few minutes and already they were vying for his attention before he even had time to descend down the stairs.

"_Turq_, can we go back now?"

He didn't bother to face the source of the whiny voice behind him right away. He could barely remember the girl's name who stood at his back, readjusting her dress. Eariler that night she had approached him- some friend of a friend. He had seen her around in the Academy- she was a bit cute though truthfully nothing special. And she sure as hell didn't have anything on him. He could have gotten much better if he felt like it- as a matter of fact he could have gotten any girl he wanted. But he had been drinking those brightly colored liquors from the Capitol the whole night so far and the girl wasn't exactly trying to make herself a challenge.

He didn't try to stifle the faint laughter that drifted from his lips as he turned to her and cupped her chin in his hand. His fingers pushed into her cheeks, the puffy flesh of them billowing like pillows around his fingertips.

"What's your rush?" he chuckled. And then his voice dropped an octave, "Remember who it is they want to see."

He patted her cheek away and strode past her. The girl let out what sounded to be an exasperated sigh but of course she followed him. He wouldn't have expected anything different.

The foyer near the main doors of the estate he shared with his father was nearly coated with balding heads and hairdos of all different assortments. It could have easily been compared to stepping into a bowl of candy. A lot of important Capitol figures were here tonight. Upon winning the Hunger Games years ago, his father had made a lot of friends in higher places. Turquoise had known his duty to these people for years now; as with many other things in his life, the direction had been spelt out by his father in very simple words that didn't require extensive amounts of time to be wasted on interaction: "_Don't embarrass me_."

Well he accomplished more than just that- not only was he careful to not shame his father but these creatures of the Capitol had become putty in his hands.

His arrival at the end of the staircase brought about a wave of voices. The women affectionately cooed his name in their strange accents while the men patted his shoulder, repeating what nearly everyone had been saying the entire night; "_District One's gonna have another victor this year_." Already they were beating on him, and really, they were smart to. Everyone knew this year's Hunger Games would be his. It wasn't a question of whether or not he would be volunteering tomorrow. _He_ was going to be the male tribute to represent District One. Even his peers from the Academy would know better than to step forward should any name but his own be called. This was rare for One, but the district didn't exactly keep who they wanted to represent them a secret.

Though none of this flattered him. Rather it came to him as simple fact. Obviously they wanted him. Why wouldn't they? Not only was he the son of one of the Capitol's most honored victors, but he was at the top of his class and had become frighteningly good with just about every weapon over the years. He was strong. He was incredibly fast. Not to mention attractive.

He would be a _perfect _tribute.

Turq navigated his way through the crowd, stopping and talking to the guests who deserved his presence most as he did. The girl was long gone, ether lost in the string of people or drifting to some other part of the party. He was thankful for this; as she sloppily ran her lips across his chest when they had been locked together in his dark room, he was sure she would end up trailing him for the rest of the night. Girls seemed to get easily attached to him. Of course he didn't blame them much for it. The boy had never seen anything quite as beautiful as what he found in the mirror- the smooth olive face that gazed back at him; chiseled jaw, a pair of round chestnut eyes. And of course his body; the deep grooves between the muscles of his abdomen compartmentalized in a perfection seldom reached by anything but sculpted stone, or his broad shoulders which lead to a pair of powerful arms that could wield any sword or throw any spear.

"_Turquoise my boy_!"

The hand that was suddenly slapping hard against Turq's back belonged to Pax, a puffy man whose plastic skin marked him as a resident from the Capitol. He was very wealthy and very powerful; and at the moment very drunk.

"Pax, good to see you again," Turq greeted him.

"I hear you are volunteering tomorrow," he said, his hot, vile breath making it difficult for Turq to refrain from cringing. Though he was quick to regain his composure. He raised one eyebrow.

"Of course. I'm eighteen now, Pax. It's about time that I did," Turq said with his usual smile. The blubbering overdone man slapped him on the back again and together they shared a round of laughter. Really, he cared little for Pax as he did for most of the people there. But his natural charisma was usually enough to hide whatever level of dislike he held for someone so important to his father.

His father. He wondered where he was at the moment. Turq scanned the crowd, holding onto just the smallest hope that he would find him watching, nodding at him with approval.

But he wasn't. The man was on a different side of the room, holding a glass in his long fingers with the usual stony expression displayed on his narrow facial features while someone else spoke to him. Turq's good looks didn't come from his father; they came from his long-deceased mother who used to stop passersby's in the street without even trying. Though she died when Turq was just a boy, people would always tell him how radiant and lovely she was- very much the opposite from his father. The man was anything but radiant. He was cold, hollow and empty as a hole in the ground. But Turq didn't necessarily see these traits as bad things. Rather he held a great deal of respect for his father; the one human being who had never once ceded to him.

As a matter of fact, his father did quite the opposite. He was never even_ satisfied_ with him. It didn't seem to matter just how incredible Turq was- he had been at the top of his class since he started out in the Academy, he had won over every teacher and trainer he had ever had, there wasn't a single high-ranking official that _didn't _like him. But his father could care less for any of these things. Turq could have been lame and it wouldn't have made a difference.

Though, winning the Hunger Games would change that.

His father had not tried to conceal the fact that he wanted a victor for a son. Turq's first particular memory of this was from years ago, when he had been small enough that his feet couldn't touch the ground as he sat on the couch. He and his father were watching the crowning of a victor from Two who had won the games that year by cutting off the head of his final competition- a tribute from One.

"Remember this," his father had said as he stared into the television screen with such an intense expression on his face Turq could never quite forget it. "Our tribute deserved to die because he was too weak to win. One day you'll be in these games. And if _you _are too weak to win them, then you'll deserve the death that comes for you too."

Those words were engraved into his memory so even when he tried to, he could never forget.

_And if you are too weak to win them_-

But even wasting a thought on such a thing was ludacris. He was surely _not_ weak. And the idea of anyone winning _his _Hunger Games but _him _was laughable.

He was Turquoise Brill. And there wasn't a thing in this life that he didn't get if he wanted it.

* * *

Across the District, where the lights from Victors Village were as distant as stars, the streets were silent. Though not as rowdy, the homes here were still filled with guests who celebrated just as merrily as the crowd at the Brill Estate.

Well, all except one.

Saffiron Caraway ducked away from another flying piece of china, cringing as it crashed against the wall behind her. When she raised her chin again, she was caught once more in the enraged glare of her mother. In her hand, the woman held another plate ready to be launched.

"You are an ungrateful little bitch!" she hollered, her voice comically shrill. Then she hurled the object, in just the clumsy way Saffiron predicted she would. She wanted to actually catch the plate if only to spite the woman. But instead she dodged the spinning disk once more, her long tresses of blonde hair following her body like a cape as she did.

This was a usual routine for Saffiron and her mother. The two never got along. This time the argument had begun with the Hunger Games- she was ungrateful because she wanted to wait another year to perfect her skills. As usual her father stayed out of it. He only watched forlornly from the corner of the room as if he could do nothing to control his lunatic wife.

Saffiron had had about enough of this tonight. Anger bubbled inside her stomach and moved up to clog her throat. There were tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, only from the frustration of having someone scream so violently at her. Generally she was very good at keeping her cool around her mother who had been having episodes such as this for as long as Saffiron could remember. The woman had issues- medical issues that not even the Capitol could cure. She was in constant pain and was almost always taking her packets of morphling- a drug that was _supposed_ to be calming. Apparently this wasn't the case for everyone.

"Well you are a _fucking lunatic_!" Saffiron tried to sneer but ended up just spitting through her gritted teeth. She braced herself for the attack that was sure to come, immediately weighing out her options. Her mother was blocking the door which was her only escape. Her back was too a wall, there was a table in front of her-

Her mother charged at her like a bull but finally her father stepped in. He was a larger man and Saffiron's mother was rather small (despite her bite). He scooped her up in his arms as she screamed, nearly clawing at him with her talon fingernails. He didn't have much time to send a glance Saffirons way but he didn't have to. She had seen it many times before. It was the same apologetic-but-there's-nothing-that-can-be-done-about-it stare he had been giving her for years now. Even though her relationship with her father was good enough to make up for her witch of a mother, he still pissed her off with his passiveness.

The sound of the door as it shut behind the two of them seemed to reverberate around the dark room she now stood alone in, confirming that the place was as hollow as she imagined it to be. An emptiness washed over her but quickly it was filled by anger; anger toward her bitch mother, anger toward her pansy father.

With a clenched fist she pounded hard into the wall that she leaned against, feeling satisfaction in the pain that ran through her fingers. In that moment she made the decision to volunteer tomorrow. Sure she was pretty young for a District One tribute- she was sixteen and generally the girls that fought to volunteer during the reapings were at least seventeen or eighteen. But she was ready enough. Besides she would do just about anything to get out of this fucking place.

Not without slight hesitation, she left the dining area and began to move toward her room. Originally she planned to go out that night- the night before the reapings was one of the biggest across-the-district parties in all of One and that was truly saying something. But now she wasn't so sure.

Her room was eerily silent when she stepped into it. It was as if a dark cloud was looming over her still. She hated her mother. She was sure she would kill her if she could.

Saffiron ran a hand through her long blonde hair as she stepped before the mirror to analyze any potential damage the flying shards may have done. A pair of gray blue eyes pierced into hers from the reflection, blazing with an anger she had never been able to catch in them before. Aside from just a small, easily-removed chip lodged into her forehead, her porcelain skin was as smooth as ever. Just as she was dabbing away the blood with her finger, she heard the sound of something hitting her window.

She wasn't surprised when she opened it to find two girls- Emerald and Sapphire, jittering among each other from two stories below.

"Saffiron _what are you doing_?" Emerald hissed up at her. Clearly they were already drunk. Sapphire seemed to already be having a hard time standing upright. "Come back to Pashmina's with us!"

Saffiron's lips tightened. She was just about positive now that she wasn't going out tonight. Especially not with these two. Emerald and Sapphire were almost unbearable to be around sober, let alone when they were intoxicated.

"Nah, I'm alright. Go without me. I'm exhausted," she lied.

"Oh come on!" Sapphire giggled. "Everyone wants you there! Plus _Gold's_ been asking about you."

Saffiron couldn't help but roll her eyes. Gold was an idiot. He was a little bit handsome but really nothing more than another stupid, cocky bastard that chased her around just because she didn't throw herself at him- such as girls like Emerald and Sapphire did.

"_Good night guys_," Saffiron said sweetly but not without a pinch of sarcasm the two wouldn't be able to read in their drunken states. "I'm going to bed now. And if you keep throwing rocks at my window, I won't refrain from kicking the shit out of both of you."

She ended the statement with a smile. But she meant it.

Saffiron shut the window harshly enough to reinforce the message that she didn't want the girls pestering her for the rest of the night. When she turned to her bureau, her eyes homed in on a small green vile that rested by her jewelry box. Well just because she was staying in for the night that didn't mean that she couldn't have a little party of her own, right?

With a smile curling her lips she stripped her slight but toned body of its cloths, admiring the muscles that only a lifetime of training could have given her. Then without even bothering to redress herself she snatched the vile and plopped onto her bed.

The tiny green bottle contained a small portion of her mother's vast storage of liquid morphling. Saffiron stole it from time to time without shame- the wench had too much to keep track of.

As she put the bottle to her lips and took a swig, the liquid instantly caused a numbing sensation to fill the insides of her mouth. This was quickly followed by a coldness that began from her neck and traveled down into her arms and torso. The last thing she saw before the room took on that familiar snowy haze were her peachy thighs. She wiggled them back and forth, laughing hysterically as she did.

* * *

Flutura Gigget wiggled her way onto the glamorous stage of District One. She was more than just proud to be the escort of One. It was something she had been working toward for a very long time. And this year, she was finally permitted. She adjusted her lime green shoes- the color of the season, of course, and made sure her pouf of powdery blue hair was in order. She had to look absolutely _stunning_ on this fine morning. All of Panem would be watching- as would the other escorts who would surely be enviously judging her every move. Everyone knew District One was the best district to be assigned to. Well there was Two, of course, and Four wasn't all that bad. But none were quite as splendid as One! Flutura was shocked to see how beautiful the main square of the district actually was in person when she was taken on the tour.

Hundreds of boys and girls flocked into the center before her, each very proud with good posture and pretty faces. She had originally started off as an escort for Ten and their children were nowhere near as dignified as these ones were. As a matter of fact most of them would cry when she called them up to the stage. And where was the fun in that? No one wanted to see pathetic ,sniffling children year after year! They wanted strong, handsome tributes that were courageous and fearless. Very much like all these potentials.

"Alright Flutura, are you ready?" one of the camera men whispered in her ear.

"That I am!" she responded cheerfully.

"Okay," he said. "On the count of three… three… two…. one- go!"

Flutura fluttered onto the stage, waving to the potentials as she did.

"Hello District One! Oh and of course," her painted lips parted to reveal a pair of frighteningly white teeth- "_Happy Hunger Games! _May the odds be_ ever_ in your favor_._"

* * *

Turq stood strong and sure among what he considered a sea of nothings. Just a quick glance around reminded him that he was in fact the best male candidate for these games. The mayor of One strode onto the stage just as he did every year, reciting the story of the Hunger Games and the fall of the late North America. The escort nodded along eagerly- she was new but not very unlike the last one they had. Turq lost interest quickly. He had the whole thing memorized after seven years of this. He paid closer attention to the buttons of his shirt to make sure he was ready for the cameras, until the escort's heels broke the silence left behind after the mayor's speech.

"Now it's time to pick our female tribute for the 34th Annual Hunger Games! I'm sure you ladies must be _very_ excited," the colorful woman squealed in her Capitol accent. Turq was used to hearing these- some people even told him he had a slight one. Probably because he had been surrounded by residents of the Capitol his entire life- he may as well have lived there himself. Though he would have never argued that he belonged in any district but his own. The noble, honored District One. He was the epitome of this place.

The escort- Flutura, Turq had heard her name was, dug her long fingernails into the glass blow and wiggled them around in it theatrically for some time before she pulled out a piece of paper. She cleared her throat before reading the name.

"_Saffiron Caraway_."

Turq rose his eyebrows.

The girl's section parted like a curtain to reveal Caraway. The silver piercings in her ear gleamed as she pushed her honey blonde hair over one shoulder. Instantly a swarm of Peace Keepers surrounded her and with an erect posture she strode to the stage. Then just as her foot hit the first stair the volunteer requests began. This year the girls seemed more eager than usual- particularly the girls his age who weren't about to let a sixteen year old upstage them.

Flutura didn't seem to know what to do. Her expression was entirely flustered as she looked from Caraway to the girls in the crowd. But Caraway was very sure as she gently moved the microphone to her pink lips and said, quite simply;

"This is mine."

Those three little words were enough to end the shouts. And the silence that followed as the now surly looking girl's section ate her words was thick enough to be cut with a knife. But Caraway only smiled as she took a step back.

Turq wasn't quite expecting that. So little Caraway wasn't letting anyone take her spot? That was a bit bold on her part- stepping to her superiors in the Academy. She would make for some _interesting _competition, wouldn't she? Turq had seen her around at school; there was something about her that was so different from the other girls her age. As a matter of fact she was a bit different from most girls. It was in the way he had seen her pin down males twice her size onto the floor during hand-to-hand combat as she stared at them with the wide innocent eyes of a doe. It was in the way she could often be found silently observing others from the corners of the training rooms with that shit-eating grin smeared across her face. It was in the way that she could toss an axe with enough precision to slice a hair or swing a sword with all the grace and poise of a dancer. It was something that made so many both want her and want to over-power her. It was something that had caught _his _eye over the years and Turq couldn't give many girls that much credit.

The females section still only had eyes for the blonde tribute who now stood smugly on the stage that should have been there's, surely wanting nothing more than to kill her. Caraway didn't seem to mind though. The sweet little wave she sent in their direction suggested that she enjoyed it.

"Well alright then!" Flutura said, regained her composure. "How exciting, right? Now for the gentlemen!"

Turq readied himself.

* * *

Saffiron was still smirking at the mixture of both shock and anger from the girl's section at her words. She actually wasn't supposed to do that. Generally even if your name was called you were supposed to cede if someone more experienced wanted to volunteer. But Saffiron was never one to care much for social graces.

The escorts voice brought her back to the ground.

"_Topaz Mercer_."

Topaz stupidly barreled his way through the crowd. He was maybe a year older than her and a complete dumbass. But he was also large and pretty violent. Saffiron didn't think he would let anyone volunteer for him. This was okay though. Topaz was one of the biggest idiots at the Academy. All she would have to really do is convince him that the trick to winning the games is to just stop breathing-

"I volunteer."

The calm voice came from near the front row of the boys section. Saffiron didn't need to see his face to recognize it. She should have _known_. The prince himself was eighteen now- which meant it was time for him to make daddy proud. Now her games would be graced by his majesty. Wonderful.

As the Peacekeepers escorted him to the stage no one said a word. This was not normal for District One. There were _always_ other volunteers. _Always_. Whether or not they were actually accepted was another story but there was never silence. Saffirons hands clenched at their sides.

"Oh yes come up, come up! What is your name, dear?" Flutura beamed.

"Turquoise Brill," he said, casting a smirk out for the crowd. Saffiron made the mistake of looking at the girls section for this and found that the expressions they wore made her want to vomit.

"Turquoise Brill? Oh my! Is your father who I think it is?" Flutura asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

But Brill played along anyway. "That's right," he said.

"It would seem as though we have the son of a victor in our midst!" Flutura said to the crowd, which cheered in response. They were actually cheering.

_Bastard. _

Of course Saffiron knew Brill. He was so obnoxious in his conceit how could anyone miss him? She had been watching him prance through the hallways like a haughty peacock for years now. He was by far the most arrogant asshole she had ever met. And yet somehow people just _loved_ him for it.

Well they could keep on loving him. Let him be their favorite right up until they watch that pretty head of his roll from his neck at her sword. Because Turquoise Brill was _hers_ now. They were going to be thrown into that arena together. And all of One would see just how well their beloved victors son holds his own against her. Sure Brill was pretty deadly- she had seen what he could do when they were put into the same training room together. He was at the top of his class. But still she had no doubts in her mind that she could take him. He was glorified.

"I'm sure you'll do him proud, dear," Flutura said, grabbing onto Brill's hand with a bit too much force. Saffiron noticed she held it for quite some time until she took her as well.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am very proud to present you with your tributes this year. Saffiron Caraway and Turquoise Brill!"

Flutura held both their hands up. Saffiron puffed out her chest and kept her body rigid. She _would_ win these games. She had shoved the mentality that she wasn't completely ready far out of her mind and let it shatter onto the floor. She _was _ready. She had never been more ready in her life.

"Alright now, shake hands you two," Flutura said, placing their hands together.

Saffiron lifted her chin up as she took his hand. While there were many things she could deny about Brill, the one thing she couldn't was how unattainably beautiful he was. It was difficult to hold her indifferent expression when his softly browned eyes were nearly melting her. He radiated seduction and there was nothing subtle about it. But this wasn't a beauty pageant. This was the Hunger Games. How attractive he was wouldn't make a difference in her or anyone else's desire to kill him.

His smile had already turned cocky. It was enough that she wanted to spit on him. Instead she only squeezed his hand uncomfortably tight. So he squeezed hers harder.

When she turned to face the crowd again, their cheers crashed over her like a wave. But she was sure they were already doubting her.

For this, they were fools.

* * *

The couch in the Justice Building's visiting room didn't face the door. But when Terq heard it open for a second time, his back involuntarily straightened. He knew this guest wouldn't be another wave of friends. Without turning around he said, "Well, father?"

Turq's father made no response at first. He only moved slowly across the floor until he stood before his son. He didn't sit beside him. He only stood in front of him. Turq rose to meet him and was surprised when his father instantly placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

His gray eyes were as stale as ever as they bore into Turq. Even if he was one hundred years old those eyes could have still converted him back into a four year old. It was as if his face had become putty. He couldn't seem to control the expressions he made. He knew his father hated him for this. He was never strong enough.

The silence seemed to last for a long time. Turq wasn't sure why he was disappointed. He wasn't sure why he had predicted anything different than this from his father. He should have known better than to actually think he would be proud of him. Rather his father expected this. If he didn't volunteer… well Turq honestly couldn't imagine his father becoming any colder toward him. Perhaps he would have disowned him or thrown him out into the streets somewhere. Perhaps he would have just killed him himself.

"They all know who you are," he said. "What you do out there will be a direct reflection of me."

Then his gray eyes seemingly dug straight through Turq's brown and engulfed themselves into the confines of his mind when he said only one seemingly simple word; "_Win._"

And that was all.

His father was out the door and gone without another word and Turq was left with only the silence of the room to keep him company. And somehow the quietness seemed to amplify the pin drop of distress his father had pricked into him. He only hoped the pointless emotion he felt hadn't been displayed on his face for the man to see.

When the Peace Keeper popped his head through the door and told him it was time to go, he stood up, stifling the thoughts of his father. He kept himself empty, only letting that one word run its course through his entire body. _Win. Win. Win._

Their escort and a very sour looking Caraway waited outside for him. Upon sight of him, Caraway nearly scowled while Flutura enthusiastically clapped.

"Alright then tributes!" she said. Turq didn't miss the fact that she only seemed to be looking at him as she spoke, that all-too-familiar glint in her eyes. Even their escort couldn't resist him. This shouldn't have come as a surprise though. Who couldn't resist him?

When shot a glance over to Caraway, he noticed that her eyes were on him too. Only there was nothing lustful about the way she was looking at him. Rather her features were twisted in disgust. But as they met eyes, her mouth smoothed out into a sickeningly sweet smile.

Flutura's voice came fluttering back to his ears.

"-train picks up right behind this building, though I'm sure you both already knew that. Okay now get your camera faces on! You two will be getting lots and lots of attention when we get out there! Now come, come. Time to go."

With just a quick turn on one of her unusually high heels, Flutura was off down the hallway, bobbing ahead of them. Turq and Caraway both moved to follow in a strange unison. And in an even stranger unison they both tilted their heads ever so slightly to look at each other. Caraway glared. Turq couldn't help but sneer in response.

"Well, I wouldn't have expected that _you_ would end up being my partner in these games," he said under his breath.

Caraway met him with a smirk of her own. "_No_… not little ol' me," she whispered harshly. "Going up against the great Turquoise Brill. How will I ever stand a chance?"

"Oh don't worry. I'll go easy on you," he said-entirely kidding. He wouldn't go easy on her. He wouldn't go easy on any of these tributes. He had seen his father's games many a time. Turq would play his in a similar way; he would kill swiftly with dignity but not mercy.

He wasn't directly looking at her but from the corner of his eye he saw her expression darken. "We'll see about that," she said.

Turq only chuckled. "I wouldn't count on it, sweetheart."

Ahead of them Flutura approached the pair of massive, glided doors that led out to the back of the Justice Building where the train would be waiting to take them to the Capitol. And at this moment, if Turq was right, there would already be a slew of Capitol reporters paving the small space in between. Flutura stepped to the side.

"You're going to go out there one after the other. Turquoise, you first, then Saffiron. Ready?"

Without waiting for a response, Flutura motioned to a pair of Peace Keepers who guarded the doors. Immediately they swung open.

It took Turq's eyes a moment to adjust to the light but when they did, he found he had been more than right. There was a wall of camera men on ether side of the ropes the Peace Keepers had put out to keep the path clear. Upon sight of him they instantly began screaming his name. Some chanted it, some were already bombarding him with questions.

A smile involuntarily made its way to his face. He truly was born to have this type of attention on him. It seemed right, almost normal- though he had never gotten it to this extent before. Nature took over in that moment; for all the Capitol citizens he wore a dazzling smile, for all the tributes who would be watching this later today he made sure his posture was perfect as he walked, showing off his broad frame and brawny muscles. He waved, he laughed good heartedly at the flattering comments they threw at him and then all-too-soon it was over and he was in the confines of the train.

But the noise from outside didn't diminish as he thought it would. If anything, it actually got _louder_. With narrowed eyes he watched as Caraway made her way past the reporters and camera men.

She was almost shining as she strutted past them. Her silky hair was grazing her narrow hips as she swiveled them. She was making eye contact that was intimate even from where he stood, pouting her lips ever so slightly as they told her she was beautiful, _giggling- _and it wasn't in a way that was giddy or childish. It was low, almost rumbling, _sexy_-

_Damn her! _That little bitch was actually trying to make efforts to outshine him. It wouldn't work. Surely it wouldn't work. She was a nobody- especially when compared to _him_.

But when she joined him in the compartment, they were literally begging for her to come back. They even flooded into the roped off areas, drowning Flutura in their excitement as she tried to push her way through. Turq's jaw tightened.

Saffiron granted them with one final wave, hanging out the doors of the train. When she turned to him, out of their sight, her sensual, girly expression changed entirely. Her sweet smile twisted into a gnarled sneer. Rather than flaunt right by him, she brushed her shoulder against his and paused just long enough so she could raise her lips to his ear.

"Two can play at this game, Pretty Boy," she hissed, her warm breath tingling against his skin.

His teeth clamped down together hard as he turned to face her. But she was already gone, slowly swaying her hips back and forth as she pranced down the corridor of the train. This gesture alone allowed for the sharp spike of anger inside him to diminish into a slow, boiling malice. A smirk crept onto his lips.

Well she was right, wasn't she? Two _certainly _could play at this game.

* * *

**And there you have it ladies and gents! So I really had a lot of fun writing out these two. Asami- I hope you liked my Turquoise. I'm actually a little nervous about what you're gonna think of him. Hopefully I portrayed him well. Already I have roles for each of the tributes I've gotten so far… and I think we all know what his is haha. And as for Saffiron- ****Barbreeka, you said she was sarcastic so I really tried to play up that part of her personality. That and I'm designating her official badass. Hopefully that's okay. Not all of the district's tributes will know eachother beforehand- but in D1's case I figured it would make sense. Plus their personalities were too fun to keep away from eachother!**

**As for the rest of you- what did you think of the District One's? Our District Two's should hopefully be up soon. Also keep submitting tributes! We have a few more spots to fill. **

**(ALSO: Just a teeny tiny disclaimer I'm throwing in; the partying, the morphling usuage, all other forms of bad behavior came from me not from those who created these characters. Just as a lot of random little details came from me. That was my attempt at showing the life-is-wonderful D1 lifestyle. Please just don't throw rocks at me.)**


End file.
